by Gary Starta
Bastet had stowed herself away on the Virmana which remained hidden in the Orion nebula for millennia. Unknown to its occupants, now known by us as the Entourage, Bast was able to pilot a shuttle off the ship just prior to their reawakening. Changing form in her descent to Earth, Bast left the shuttle to burn in the Earth’s atmosphere, thereby escaping detection, and became a falcon. Consequently, she made her way to my garden where she found my less than thriving Star Clusters and fittingly enough morphed into botanical form.
“One of my most beautiful existences, I might add,” she said.
She perceived my worry. “Bast is fine, dear Isis. She, like Isis within you, remains a part of me, although she is dormant. In light of what I observe taking place, I promise you your beloved cat is in one of the safest places she could be.”
“How could she?” I asked, demanding more assurance. “You said you’re rogue. A threat to the Ennead yourself, in fact; I don’t know how that gives Bast an advantage.”
“I have continued to conceal my identity.” And with that pronouncement, she explained exactly how she had done that in the past few days. “I was impersonating Charlize in the jail cell, the last time you talked to your beloved friend.”
My mind replayed the conversation. It was so Charlize-like. I was prepared to believe a lot of things, but I had doubts…
Bastet continued. “I maintained a psychic tether to Charlize. In a way, she answered your questions and revealed her biggest regrets. I was only a medium.”
“You said maintained,” I said, a counteroffensive tone overcoming me.
“Yes. Yes. I’am so sorry. Charlize is fine. In fact, she’s well hidden from harm as well.” Bast explained when I alerted Charlize of her impending arrest, she did the exact thing I warned her not to—run. “She came to her father’s lab with the pet she was babysitting and of course, me. I too surprised the stars out of her when I morphed. Her father was on the verge of fainting. But in the urgency of time and desperation, Charlize and her father agreed to my plan.”
The plan was to switch out Charlize. The gifted teen singer would take refuge in Brahm’s teleportation device—the machine he said he was crafting for me so I could return to my world. At this moment, I didn’t care if that was just a deceit. What I needed to know was how Charlize could survive in this machine. Bastet simplified a very complicated process, essentially confiding that Charlize was in a stasis, her molecules zipping about a cylindrical home, until such time she could be reconstituted as the dear girl I loved like my child. So Brahms knew all along where his daughter was. But I’d somehow deduced that. I didn’t doubt the man’s anger was genuine however. Charlize was still wanted for murder. I had to agree, stasis was the best option. So by Bast’s count, my beloved friend and cat were safe for the time being. That left Brahms, the man I feared for most at the moment, to dominate my thoughts.
Bast finished recounting her story, the one where she again morphed—from Charlize into Bastet the cat—as I fought to maintain concentration. “Don’t worry,” she waved at me with a hand, more paw-like than human. “I’m getting to our third option, the one where we can save your dear scientist.”
After she explained how as a cat she easily slipped through jail cell bars and the precinct’s back alley exit, I understood completely.
“I will board the Virmana with Bastet in cat form. There, we will switch Brahms with the goddess.”
Yes, this had to be easy. It was so insane a plan it had to be.
“I will become Brahms—a facsimile, if you will. While the scientist experiences a glamour spell, he will appear to be your pet so he can leave the ship. Your job is to convince the Ennead such a visit is warranted. It shouldn’t be hard. The FBI needs to question a suspect.”
“But you’ll be trapped, aboard the ship. It won’t be as easy to escape. It’s not a land-based building. You’ll be in space.”
Bast shook her head then yawned. “Have you not been listening? I managed to escape the Virmana once before. But for Brahms’ sake, I will be staying. The Ennead need to believe they still have their man in custody. Besides, I think he’s safer there for some reason.”
I concurred. Although I didn’t know how Bast was privy to my line of thinking. Maybe she overheard me grumbling aloud to my cat. In any event, I believed Brahms was better off in the ship than landing in an FBI holding cell. A part of me still feared Seals more than our godly guests.
“So you are amenable to the exchange?” I asked again to be sure. I didn’t want the cat goddess to experience a change of heart. She was, like Brahms, a wanted being by the Ennead. I’d have to allow my curiosity to wait as to exactly why they believed Bastet, the cat goddess, to be a threat. I’d also have to trust this larger version of my beloved pet. I needed a lot of answers, most scientific in nature, and Brahms was the man who was best equipped to give theories, if not concrete explanations. As an agent, I could at least work with theories. I needed Brahms ASAP.
But, I asked myself, how will I communicate with a cat?
“Just when and how will Brahms become himself?” I asked, unable to disguise the urgency in my tone.
Bastet was already making her way to my garden. I followed her out the door in haste. “I will set a timer device among your flower beds,” she answered. “Just have your cat touch any one of the flowers when you return home. Your scientist will be himself again. The glamour will dissipate and actually,” she mused, “become quite good compost.”
At that moment, I had to question when and if I would ever be myself again.
* * * *
Before we left for the Virmana, the cat goddess assured me a telepathic line of communication should be possible. I didn’t have to wonder what that meant for long. Bast’s paw-like hands were rubbing themselves along my backside in urgency. “Hey,” I said, “Shouldn’t I be the one patting you?”
“I’m not patting you,” Bastet countered. “There,” she announced, a long minute later. “Your tattoo will serve just fine.”
“You mean my Ankh tattoo is going to become an iphone?”
“It’s going to give me a way to send my thoughts to you. It will be up to you if you have the mental mastery to return your thoughts to me. In any event, I can keep you apprised of what’s going on in the ship.”
She continued to rub my tattoo. It felt good, like when Briana massaged me until a burning sensation ensued.
“Don’t move!” Bast said, an angry hiss forming in her throat. “This is a good thing. It means we’ve established a connection.”
I turned around to face Bastet after the sting began to subside.
“You should learn our technology. Cell phones don’t sting.” I was being snippy. It resulted in an odd smile from Bastet. I should have assumed the attitude would be welcome. Cats were often snippy with one another. I learned that on the Animal Channel.
“And cell phones can be traced,” she added. “Just remember, you’ll also be connected to your beloved cat.” She pointed to her midsection. “I’m sure your kitty will thank you.”
I smiled. “You’re right.”
She smiled back. “As if there could have been any other conclusion; now let’s go get your scientist.”
* * * *
The Ennead obliged my request immediately, possibly hoping, I had to conclude, that Brahms might break his silence with me and realize a confession was in his best interest.
I arrived at the Virmana in quiet contemplation aboard a shuttle. Bast, the cat, dozed in a duffel-sized carrier. The pilot hadn’t even blinked when he concluded I carried breathing luggage. I hoped security on the ship wouldn’t question me about my pet either. If they did, I would be vehement; demanding Isis the goddess should not have to explain her actions.
But when I arrived, that concern became moot. It was me who worried. Not about a cat/goddess, but a whiny, ranting scientist who behaved as if he were a baby missing nap time.
I needed to calm the man down quick. A part of me rationalized this behav
ior was good for appearance sake. Brahms might be appearing to resist cooperation with human authorities. But I didn’t need a scene. It would attract too many eyes. I had to give Bast some alone time with Brahms at some point if the switch was to be successful. I dug in my coat pocket and found a candy. “Here,” I handed the sweet treat to Brahms, the moment the guard released the force field to his prison. A prison I might add which came with TV, a bed and private bath.
The guard raised an eyebrow—for a moment—until I made it clear I was also visiting Brahms as Isis.
“Didn’t you hear the adage, you’ll attract more flies with honey than vinegar?” I mused to his benefit.
“Of course, Isis knows best,” the man said before curtsying out of sight. I still found the man skirts the Egyptian men loved to wear odd. I produced a girly chuckle. Brahms stared at me as if I was half mad; or maybe, he assumed I was no longer on his side. Either way, he behaved strange as well, sucking on his candy, eyeing me with unease.
“It’s me, Brahms,” I said. I placed the cat carrier on the floor and gave Bast her freedom with one zip.
“Oh, you know about... I can explain.”
I surmised the reason for his unease. I think he really thought I was out to punish him. If I had brought the cat, I was divulging my knowledge of what really happened with Charlize.
He whispered, “You found out. I won’t apologize…” He stared, alternating his gaze between me and the floor. In a trance, he was mad enough to spit.
I held up a hand in stop sign fashion. “No need to say you’re sorry. Are you feeling better?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. A little sugar always does the trick. That reminds me of Charlize…” The distraction, the very idea of his daughter, turned off his anger the way a spigot turned off a hose. But in its place came melancholy.
Oh no, my mind screamed.
We so didn’t need Brahms’ brain to be clouded from depression. Bastet explained to me before morphing that the scientist should remain as clear-minded as possible for the spell to work.
“It’s okay. I know what you had to do…” I didn’t dare complete the thought for fear of surveillance equipment or nosy telepathic minds. Brahms nodded. He realized I was alluding to Charlize’s disappearance.
Brahms spit the remainder of the candy into a napkin. At that point, I wasn’t sure what was going on. A moment later, Brahms was hugging me, whispering in my ear that his plan had worked wonders.
I wanted to scream. “You purposely had yourself abducted? Wait—was this Sweeney’s doing? You can’t really trust him. He might have an agenda—”
Brahms squeezed my hand. I took it as a signal to stop ranting.
A boyish smile found its way onto Brahms’ lips. “It wasn’t really a plan but a wager. If I was detained by the Ennead, it would solve your problem as to how to observe their diet.”
It took me a moment to digest what Brahms was alluding to. The plan had worked if you consider their merchandise, a lot of vitamins and green groceries, had been destroyed in the van fire. Therefore, the ship’s occupants might have been prone to what Brahms referred to as “oxidative stress.” A moment later, Brahms explained the lack of nutrients had caused a profound effect.
“They have been sneezing, profusely. Anytime they come in proximity to me, in fact. I have to conclude that our guests have either an impaired immune system, or more likely, they fear disease from a planet they haven’t visited in millennia. They haven’t had the chance to build immunity. And, it all makes sense,” Brahms continued, all the while play-acting for his abductor’s benefit, appearing crestfallen and remorseful with hands clasped together and brows furrowed. I had to give the scientist credit. He knew a lot more about human character than he ever let on. I let him play.
“So Agent Diggs, I can posit with great assurance that our visitors are not only reluctant to maintain a steady contact with us, but they are also hampered. Supernatural abilities we might assume gods possess could be inhibited. I mean, have we witnessed any supernatural feats?” I thought about the construction of the pyramid. Stones were moved via crystal and sound, not telekinesis. “Okay,” I said. “I agree with your theory. But how can it help us?”
“I can’t risk going into further detail here.”
I nodded and let my gaze focus on the cat.
Brahms nodded as if he understood. He mumbled one last thing in my ear before we left for the bath with Bast in tow. “You know I’ve experienced a glamour spell or two before. It’s just that I’ve never seen the world from a cat’s perspective before.” At that moment, I clenched my fists fearing Brahms was going to back out. But he surprised me—again.
“I have to say this should be a scientific wonder in itself. Please remind me to record all my observations upon our return.”
I held his hand and squeezed it. “I will, doctor.”
Brahms was right about the fear of contagion. I strained my neck to peer out of the cell as Bast and Brahms traded places. I couldn’t even discern a guard’s shadow. It comforted me to think we just might walk off this ship without the slightest scrutiny.
The theory was tested as Brahms “the cat” and I shuffled down a hallway to a shuttle.
Hathor stopped us, yellow eyes ablaze. “I almost missed you, Agent Diggs and my dear sister.” She bowed. “I hope your visit was fruitful.”
I shook my head to feign disappointment. “He’s not ready to talk. And quite frankly, I don’t know if I can help him if he doesn’t. Will you promise to let me know if he has a change of heart?”
“Certainly, sister, I will. And although I admire his loyalty to his friends, he is a fool.” At that precise moment, Hathor’s yellow orbs locked onto Bast. My heart raced and I dug my nails into my palms.
She’s got to be able to see…she’s a goddess…
And then the moment passed. She returned her gaze to me and extended her hand for an embrace.
I believed Brahm’s prognosis to be correct. Maybe the gods were hampered by humans, by our environment. If so, it allowed Brahms to prance off her ship in cat form undetected. I wondered, as we made our way to the shuttle, if Hathor viewed the cat Bastet as the goddess figuratively. I recalled Thoth’s almost sinister reaction to the cat at the festival. If my feelings were correct the Ennead really did perceive Bastet the cat goddess to be a rogue. And if she was, what unspeakable actions might the Ennead have done to warrant such betrayal?
* * * *
Brahms and I wandered among the Star Clusters long after his spell dissipated. He wasn’t as anxious to talk about his experiences as a cat as I had braced myself for. His theories about how the Ennead operated were at the forefront of his mind, thankfully.
“Bastet’s ability,” Brahms said, “I mean the goddesses’ ability seems to stem from a manipulation of our universe. If so, it stands to reason that there is indeed a fifth element involved. Because I cannot posit how the Ennead or their Entourage maintained their long stay in space, not to mention their return, without cosmic assistance. It also seems to mean that DNA is not a fixed code like I had told you prior.”
Brahms detailed a connection between a fifth force and dark matter. He assured me not to worry about my lack of scientific understanding, that all I really needed to know was the connection allowed beings like Bast the cat goddess to morph into different objects despite the trapping of their original DNA.
“It seems to prove that our DNA is alive and vibrating, not some preordained tapestry of history and limitations.” I wanted to halt Brahms because his reasoning was escaping me, but I let him continue. He had such a head of steam it would have been criminal to impede him.
“So Agent Diggs, this manipulation of DNA and matter could explain the Ennead’s making and their arrival. Thanks to our cat goddess we might be able to understand their modus operandi.”
“But,” I interrupted, “isn’t it more important to understand their purpose?”
“Yes, and in time, through observation and study, we will be able to
see that.”
“But I must remind you, we don’t have time on our side.”
“I am not sure about that, Agent Diggs. As much as I’m excited about our visitors proving the existence of a fifth element and dark matter, I also feel they have accomplished a feat no scientist has ever imagined possible. And it is all about time.”
I let my mouth hang open long enough to encourage Brahms to continue.
“It’s an accomplishment I’ve never even posited. You might even relate to it as fantasy.”
“A few months ago I thought demons were fantasy. And a talking cat…”
“Yes, I see. But you were proved wrong and not by magic, but by science. I have linked together two seemingly unrelated events to warrant my rationale—the disappearance of the demons and the reappearance of the Labyrinth. This is science not even an Einstein could have dreamt possible.”
“Okay, the clock’s ticking Dr. Brahms. Please…”
“The two events I spoke of are related but not planned. They are both collateral damage in response to a merger of two separate timelines. One timeline is that of ancient Egypt, resulting in the reemergence of the Labyrinth and the disappearance of the demons, because think of it Agent Diggs, demons did not grace our planet at the time of ancient Egypt. Yet, here we, the both of us products of our current timeline, still existing! I believe the fifth force and its resulting manipulation of DNA have enabled the Ennead to return via a merging of timelines. In conclusion, I don’t think the Ennead intended to remove the demons, at least not with premeditation. I also don’t think, judging by their less than enthusiastic response to the Labyrinth’s uncovering, that they intended this mythical wonder to return as well.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand how timelines can be merged via this force. And if they are, can we correct it?”
Brahms laid his hand on my shoulder. “Think of it as a radio transmission, Agent Diggs. Two separate stations sharing the same frequency on a bandwidth. I’m sure you’ve had the infuriating experience of losing a desired station to the chatter of an unwanted foreign broadcast at one time or another.”
